


We fought a silent war

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 04:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And whether it is with angered groans or pleasured moans, there is no Loki without Thor, and no Thor without Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We fought a silent war

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like super fast because I was bored at school and what better way to spend your education than to write some Thorki?  
> For Ada because I said I would and she's my most loyal subject.

The wings of a raven. The rays of the sun.

It is darkness and light. Just like everyting else in them. They are different as can be. They are one and then the other. But yet, there is no one without the other.

Thor is day. Thor is sun-kissed and golden, with tanned skin and a bright smile to match the yellow of his hair, usually messy and tangled in places, more often than not, dirty from a sparring match or from wrestling on the dirt. Thor is the Golden Son. Asgard's favoured Prince. He is the flame of the realm's hope.

And just as the flames are followed by ashes, Thor is followed by Loki.

Loki is night. Moon-kissed. Taut muscle pulled over lean chest and limbs, pale skin a perfect contrast to the black of his hair, ellegantly framing his face, making his sharp features stand out even more. His hair is always neat, combed back with just the tips curling upwards in the natural shape that he can't quite straighten back and that only turns worse when the air is damp. He is the realm's trickster. Second born. Second Prince.

Loki is spells and books. Thor is swords and a pint of ale.

_Two sides of a coin._

So very different but yet needing each other just as much.

If one was to ask the trickster, he would deny it, claim that he doesn't, in fact, need Thor. But he does. He needs Thor just as much as Thor needs Loki to need him.

_Two halves of a whole._

No day without night. No darkness without light.

But then again, no one sees them as such. Because they don't _allow_ others to see them. Because it is always closed doors and hidden words, masked looks passed across dinning halls. Because oh, what a crazy thing, to think of the sun and the moon together in such a way. Two opposite poles colliding in a mess of whispered words and disguised touches.

They come together as one, hidden even from the Gatekeeper's watch, from the judging of the realms.

They are experienced now, know their ways around the secluded halls and hidden passages of the palace, but once they were not as much. Once they were but boys, wondering and fighting with themselves because why must something so wrong feel so good? Once they were still young, dimples on their cheeks and giggles escaping their lips, and just how were they supposed to know better than to do something so foul when it felt so very natural? They fit together perfectly, the temperatures of their skin, warm against cool, a difference that brought shivers down their spines, their experimental touches soon becoming more trusting, more willing and pliant, and they were made for each other. A foolish thing to believe otherwise. Or at least that was what they thought.

But time passes by and the children grew into men, and with them grew their passion. Just as much as the _wrongness_ of it grew.

But they were already long past the point of no return. There was no stopping it. Not that they were trying to, anyway, because with the fear of being caught, also came the thrill of hiding, the pleasure of two bodies pressed together after a thing or the other called for them to be apart. It came the hushed moans, the whispered pleas of _more_ and _faster_. It's a quick tumble in the sheets. It's a slow, sweet affair pressed against the wall. It's eager, _desperate_ passion, burning right through their bodies and seeping through their skin. It's wrong and yet oh so very _good_.

And they would regret it. And then they wouldn't.

It is not an easy thing to do, to keep such a thing hidden, to keep up the appearances. It is not an easy thing to do, for Thor to pick a wife, for Loki to accept the company of Freyja's daughter -sweet and tender and always so eager to be by Loki's side-, it is not an easy thing to stay so close when they are so far apart. They would fight, they would scream. Because they are different, because their personalities crash. _Don't touch me_ , one would say. _Touch me_ , would be the other's reply.

They have all the reasons to stop it, end what they are doing, but yet they don't. They _can't_. Because when the Norns weave your destiny, what else can you do but to follow that thread?

They fight to be together. They fight to get away.

_I love you._

_I hate you._

It never stops and they know it, they have known it ever since that very first time so long ago, ever since they explored each other's bodies with hesitant touches, when they had already seen each other bare many a time before in the baths but yet it felt like the very first time. It was one touch, one caress, one sly look and it was all lost. Both were prideful, both were stubborn, and neither of them was willing to put a name to what they had until it was too late, when they were already too deep in it.

Moon and sun. Sun and moon. Always and never together.

It's an endless chase through the realms. They tell themselves they don't want to be together but they can't help themselves from coming back. And it's always the same, always a circle. They discover each other as if they had never been together, they get too damn close and run away, only to end back in the first place they found themselves in, with their skin itching to be touched, with lips pressing over skin and bodies moving together in sync.

And sometimes it's sweet. And sometimes it's bitter. But it matters not, for it always ends in the very same way. With two halves of a whole. Two pieces of one soul. Two brothers and much much more. And whether it is with angered groans or pleasured moans, there is no Loki without Thor, and no Thor without Loki.


End file.
